The Sorrowful Story
by Eva West
Summary: Starts at the beginning of the whole story. Lemony is 12, and him and Kit and Jacques are sent to Profrock Prep, and meet up with the Baudelaire's and and Beactrices family. With all due respect, Eva West
1. Profrock Prep

I don't own ASOUE. Go figure.

Anyways, I haven't read The Beatrice Letters, so there shouldn't be any spoilers. There are only minor charater spoilers so far for The End, so if you haven't finished it yet, your ok.

Okay, on with the story-

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The Sorrowful Story

My heart is heavy as I write these words. This isn't the dreadful story of the Baudelaire's, it's there dreadful story of their parents, the dreadful story of the Drivers, and possibly the most dreadful story of the Snicket's. My story.

My mother and father sent me, and my two siblings, Kit and Jacques, to a boarding school named Prufrock Preparatory School. Our housekeeper, Rose, was getting our luggage out of our car. Kit helped me out of the car, and handed me my commonplace book.

Kit is the eldest of the Snicket's. Kit has dark hair that went past her shoulders, and her eyes were always wide and alert. She was outspoken and but always fair. Kit was a poet, and for her thirteen years, she had won more contests and astounded more people than some poets have done in their life.

Next was Jacques. Well, next isn't really the correct word. Five minutes later, Jacques was born. Jacques was almost identical to his sister, except for the fact that he was a boy. Jacques is probably the most brilliant Snicket, as he can speak, write and understand three different languages not including his native language, English. He can say many random words in lots of languages, also.

I'm the youngest of the family, Lemony Snicket. My family has always been known to have a way with words, and I am no exception. I am, to cleanly put it, a writer and just that. I do poetry with my sister, I write editorials, and send them to the newspapers, under a pen name, Daniel Handler.

As I got out of the car, I saw a small yellow haired girl walking with her two yellow haired brothers. She was holding on to one brother's hand, and holding a suitcase with another. She looked over at me, and gave me an innocent half smile.

I did not know at that moment I should have run. I did not know that after this day there would be much more misery, woe and fires than needed.

But I did not run. I gave her a half smile back, and Kit rolled her eyes. "Come on," She said, trying to scold me, but it didn't turn out half as mad as she wanted it too.

I saw the Baudelaire's get out of their car down the road. Joelle looked left and right and then saw us. Kit and I waved, and Joelle waved back.

Our family has been good friends with the Baudelaire family for years. There was Bertrand Baudelaire, the oldest who just turned fifteen. He was a researcher, and he loved books dearly. Joelle was 13, and is so smart and quick witted. Joelle loved animals, but had to leave most of them at home. The only one she was allowed was a small dog Hunter, who was peaking out of Joelle's bag. Last was Stella who had strangely large teeth, and enjoyed gnawing on hard things. Stella was very young and was hardly a year old.

"Good-bye kids," Rose said, as she snapped me back into reality.

"You're not walking us in?" Jacques asked.

"I will keep in touch." Rose told us. And with that she left.

"Memento Mori." Kit read off the large sign. "What do you think that means?"

"It's a motto. A very strange one," Jacques said. "Remember you will die."

And suddenly none of us wanted to go into the school.

Joelle ran up and threw her arms around Jacques's neck and mine. "Hola peoples." She said with a smile. Bertrand and Stella appeared shortly after.

"Which dorm are you in?" Bertrand asked.

"Callahan. Fourth floor." I told him.

"Oh, we're on the third!" Joelle said like it was the happiest thing in the world. Everybody had to smile at her innocence.

Kit, Jacques and I made it to the Callahan dorm, which was shaped like a round dome. But once inside, you forgot about the odd architecture and just enjoyed the beautiful aspects of the house. Downstairs was a bonus room, a phrase which here means, extra room usually to store pool tables and large televisions. There was a plush red carpet and chocolate brown leather seats and couches. There was a pool table in the corner with some people playing at it, and a large screen where some people were staring at watching a movie. The fireplace had a roaring and people had taken the books they had found in the library down to read.

Once we made it up to our suite, it just made it slightly more pleasant. The dark hardwood floors covered by red rugs were still there. Then in three separate rooms, were huge three poster beds and large bookcases and a desk for each of us to have. Then in the main room, there was a large couch and a smaller fireplace with a burning fire.

"This might not be so bad." Kit said. "There's plenty of room and everything seems very nice."

I wished I could have believed my sister then. But I wasn't the type too look on the surface of anything. There must have been a reason that the plaque outside said Remember you will die. This place couldn't be so perfect and have that for a motto. But I bit my tongue and answered with a simple, "Yes."

A few hours later, Jacques, Kit and I meet the Baudelaire's in the library. I was writing in my commonplace book when Joelle plopped on a chair next to me. I looked up and saw her, but then entering the library I saw the little blonde girl and one of her brother's enter the room.

Joelle followed my gaze. "She's pretty isn't she? Such a pity."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Those are the Drivers." Joelle told me. "Their parents just died in a fire. That boy right there is Blake, and the girl is Beatrice. The oldest boy is Benjamin."

"Wow." I said. I could not imagine losing my parents in a fire. "I feel sorry for them."

"Of course." Joelle said. "My mother was saying that she thinks this insane Count and Countess set the fire."

"That's awful." I said.

"Oh, Beatrice?" Joelle said, as Beatrice walked by.

She stopped and looked at Joelle then me. "Hello."

"I'm Joelle, this is Lemony." Joelle told her and patted the ottoman as a sign to sit down.

Beatrice sat down, and her and Joelle made small talk. I just watched. Beatrice was truly beautiful. The top half of her hair was pulled back in a clip, while the hold half fell gracefully around her shoulders. Her lips were full and red, with a freckle just above one lip. Her nose was straight and bold and her eyes were an emerald color. Her eyes seemed wide and still slightly in shock.

"Right, Lemony?" Joelle asked.

"Yeah." I said, realizing that I wasn't paying attention.

"Oh." Beatrice said to us quietly. "I love music. But my instruments were burnt in the fire."

"What did you play?" Kit asked.

"Oh a little of everything. Piano, Violin, Cello, Organ, Flute. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"That's amazing." I said.

"Beatrice?" A voice said. It was Blake Driver. "We should go."

"It was nice meeting you Joelle." Beatrice said. "You too Lemony." She gave one of those small, secret smiles again, and left with her brother.

"She seemed nice." I said, and went back to writing.

"Especially since you like her." Joelle said quickly.

I looked up so fast that it jerked the pen in my hand across the page. "What?"

"Oh, never mind." Joelle said. "Let's go eat."

But Joelle was a genius. And she was right also.


	2. Fire

Chapter 2

During breakfast the next morning, Kit and Bertrand were arguing which teacher was the worst, Professor McCartney or Mr. Houston.

A small girl with a sneer on her face came over to the table. She slammed her hands down and asked, "Who's Snicket at this table."

"We are." Jacques slowly told her.

"Well, the Vice Principal wants to talk to you." She said. "Now where's my tip?"

"Camilla, go away." A red haired girl said to Camilla. The red haired girl was much taller than Camilla was so she had to bend down slightly to snap at her. "Nobody is ever going to give you a tip, so just leave."

"At least I'm not a poor orphan." Camilla told her and flounced away.

"What was that about?" I asked to nobody in particular.

"Thanks," Kit said to the red haired girl. "Would you like to sit?"

"Yes, sure." The girl said. "I'm Tuesday Caliban. My brother is Thursday. He'll be here in a second."

Sure enough a red haired boy sat down at the table with the Snicket's and Baudelaire's.

"What do you think she meant?" Jacques asked quietly.

"I don't know." Joelle said, "Let's all go and see."

"Wait!" Thursday said. "They got a new Vice Principal. And I heard he's crazy. If you go up to the office building, he'll take away your silverware at meals."

"Mofhia." Stella said, which meant, That's completely idiotic.

"I'm sure he'll let you three off," Tuesday gestured to the me and my siblings, "But unless you three don't want silverware, you should stay here."

"They're right." Bertrand said. "We'll see you at class."

Kit, Jacques and I headed over to the main office building. Once we were right outside the doorway to the Vice Principal's door, they heard a wretched sound.

Apparently somebody was insisting on playing the piano, even though his or her talents obviously lay somewhere else. It sounded as if the person playing had sausages for fingers, and while hitting each key; they hid the ones around it instead. We had no idea what they were playing because it sounded like a two year old slamming on the piano.

I slowly placed my hand on the doorknob, and turned it. It opened to show a small, cramped office. On one side there was an old beat up, upright piano. On the other side was a desk, with a computer and a chair.

All of the sudden the man sitting at the piano slammed his hands on the piano, and it didn't sound that much different than his playing. "Who dares to interrupt a musical genius? I am Vice Principal Nero, the most talented man in the world!"

"Its Jacques, Lemony and Kit Snicket. You told us to come here." Kit said.

"_Its Jacques, Lemony and Kit Snicket. You told us to come here," _Nero mimicked. "I don't have all day."

"Well?" I said, after a long awkward pause.

"Well, Snicket's, I got a telegram this morning." Nero said.

"What was it about?" Jacques asked.

"_What was it about?" _Nero mimicked again. "I was just getting to that part! But since you obviously don't want to listen to me, here is the telegram." Nero went back to his piano, and senselessly hammered on whatever keys felt good at the time.

"_Usted es un moron frío, despiadado que es un jugador horrible del piano." _Jacques said in Spanish, which basicly translates into, you are a cold, heartless moron who is a horrible piano player. Normally, Jacques would never say that, but in Spanish it sounded very pretty, and not very mean at all.

"Blah, blah blah." Nero said, obviously not knowing what Jacques said.

Kit read the letter. "To the Snicket children, Kit, Jacques and Lemony. There had been a terrible series of unfortunate events STOP. Your house has been burnt down to the ground STOP. Valuables were stolen while the house was burning STOP. The firemen could not save your parents STOP. I'm sorry to deliver this news, and the funeral is scheduled next week on the 13tth. STOP. Please accept my greatest sympathies STOP. From Laurette Henderson, Vice Principal in Charge of Orphan Affairs STOP."

Kit stopped, trying to hold back her tears, she said, "Thank you Vice Principal Nero." She said shakily, and with that she grabbed Jacques and my arms and left the room.

We ran back to our dorm rooms, and Kit threw herself onto the couch sobbing. Jacques went over to comfort her.

I just sat on the couch, basically in shock. I could not believe, just yesterday we were saying goodbye to them. And now, they are gone.

Now I know exactly how Beatrice feels like.


	3. Over Your Head

Ok, so if you don't review this story is going to be updated much slower than intened due to the fact that my inspiration level goes down when nobody reviews my stories.

Anyways, couples and some stuff about the story are posted in my info under October 15th.

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I lost track of time that night. Finally, Bertrand, Joelle and Stella came to the room. When they found out what happened they cried to. We all just sat there crying silent tears until morning. We each silently dragged ourselves to our classes, while Stella playing quietly with Hunter all day. Lunch was silent, and dinner was a little bit better.

Beatrice came over to the table. She put herself under my arm and said, "It hurts terribly doesn't it?"

I rested my head on top of hers and we just sat there for a bit. Blake and Benjamin came over, and Joelle and Bertrand tried to cheer everybody up. Even Stella did her share, by mimicking Camilla Spats.

The funeral was the next Friday, and the Baudelaire's were allowed to come. Laurette picked us up and brought us to the church. I was spacing out during mostly because I was afraid if I was going to listen, I might lose it.

Once we came back to school, we were informed by Tuesday and Thursday that Nero made a new rule.

No weekends.

People argued that this was unconstitutional, and what they got was no glasses at meals, and only puddles on their trays. It was hard to decide which rule was more ridicules.

And as added injury to insult, a phrase which here means, stupid things to more stupid things, they now had to attend piano recitals every night for six hours.

Time went by slowly, until to Kit's pleasure, new people showed up at the school.

They were all dark haired, male, triplets. There is Frank who was exceptionally good at chemistry and science. Ernest is scarily good at persuasion and psychology. And Dewey was into books and library science.

Kit sat next to Dewey in Mr. Houston's class. Mr. Houston was terribly mean, but was way interested in chemistry and making things explode.

"I heard about you parents," Dewey said after Mr. Houston said that they were to be lab partners. "I'm so sorry."

"Its ok," Kit said. "Its not your fault. I'm Kit Snicket."

"Dewey Denouement." He said. "I'm not very good at this type of thing."

"Me neither. But it's just measuring when you think about it." Kit said. "I'm more of a writer."

"Me too. I love books. My parents have a hotel that's designed on the Dewey Decimal System."

"Really?" Kit asked. "That sounds fascinating."

"Not really," Dewey said. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Yes, of course." Kit whispered.

"I've made a underwater library in the lake." Dewey whispered.

"Why?"

"I'm convinced there's something more," Dewey told her.

"About what?"

"We'll talk later. I don't want anybody to know too much."

Meanwhile in Miss Kennedy's class, Beatrice and I were writing essays for English. We were talking softly, about things.

"Laurette said that our parents left behind a fortune," I said.

"Ours too. It's a tad scary." Beatrice said.

"Why?"

"I have feeling something bad is going to happen with that money." Beatrice told me. "There are greedy people in this word."

"Your so smart." I said, "Much smarter than me."

"I'm not," Beatrice said.

"You are too. It's all of those instruments you play." I told her.

"If I wrote half as much as you do, I'd be brilliant. But I'm not." Said Beatrice.

I think I love her.

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"Joelle?" I asked.

"What?"

"Does Bertrand like Beatrice?"

"I have no idea, why?"

"Haven't you seen how he looks at her?" I asked.

Joelle looked up. "He probably looks at her because she's pretty. Trust me, he doesn't like her."

"How can you be sure?"

"Lemony!" Joelle said exasperatedly. "He's fifteen. She's eleven. He does NOT like her."

"Sheesh."

"Lemony?" She asked in a slightly nicer voice. "Don't get yourself in over your head."

"Why?"

"I did."

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End file.
